


Growing Death

by Kalashnikorn



Series: Anti-Seed [3]
Category: Mad Max Series (Movies), Mad Max: Fury Road
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-23 02:15:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4859300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalashnikorn/pseuds/Kalashnikorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The elderly find a surprising number of ways to keep busy. Written from the rather unique perspective of a Bullet Farm history woman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Growing Death

We’re known as the place where the anti-seed is farmed, where the dead come roaring back to life as black powder. On first glance, the Bullet Farm is merely a desolate, barren place that swallows up the lives of its miners, who labor day after day, all in the name of harvesting destruction from the bowels of the earth. And yes, it is that.

But upon my sill, a little sprout grows. Sunbeams pierce its translucent leaves, the slightest gust threatens to snap its stem, yet I reckon that with love, tenderness, and devotion, it will grow to be more dangerous than brass and lead. With that same creed, I’ve grown a bandolier-clad warlord from a little bean on an ultrasound monitor. 

When you bring a new life into this world, you hope that others will cherish that little person, just as you do. For that soul to always be treated as precious and irreplaceable, especially by those held closest. At least, that’s what I hoped for _my_ son. I know how some _others_ view their children – as prime property at best, and chattel at worst. Given that, it should come as no surprise that such a _parent_ would treat my son as a tool, to be used, abused, discarded, and replaced when broken. 

How fitting it is, that this seedling’s purpose is to protect the Guardian of the Guns.

To spare him the fool’s errands that risk his life and wellbeing, and to liberate him from the iron fist that strangles fertile young women and rugged old men alike. Never again will my child feel the pressure to cut his own rations to make sure his troops don’t go hungry or thirsty. No longer will he be at the beck and call of that petulant colonel, or feel helpless to stop the rapacious desires of that alleged god-king. Not after the essence of this plant finds its way into a certain syringe.

Soon, the Conductor of the Choir of Death will orchestrate both the fiery forges of lead and the tranquil, hidden Vault; he will command the mines and floodgates alike. The Scales of Justice will weigh the fates of Wives and Milk Mothers, of Wretched and War Boys. All will bow in reverence to him, their true redeemer.

Grow strong, little bean. It kills me knowing that the days ahead will pain you, but you will come forth more powerful than ever. A new world is on its way – a better world for all. A world that thirsts for your brand of leadership. A world led by a just and good man, who entered the darkness but never became it, and emerged victorious.

 

Our “ally” in the north will soon breathe his purified last.

 


End file.
